


obnoxious

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Gen, M/M, this is so weird i don't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 10:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15883893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: prompt: jim/anyone,“That’s not funny.”“I thought it was.”“You don’t count. You started laughing in the middle of a funeral because you started thinking of a meme you saw on Facebook.”





	obnoxious

It’s a small affair, technically, but enough people have been following the nail-biting saga of the detective-in-a-hat hyped up by the tabloids, that the funeral of Richard Brook has attracted press.

And Brook, for all intents and purposes, did not have many close friends or family. Amongst the sea of paparazzi and two-bit journalists are a smattering of actors pretending to pretend to mourn. He was a self-serving and second rate actor, and not immensely well liked.

So people eye each other like predators and prey, trying to sniff out a story or look to be hiding one. They quiet down as the priest begins with some boilerplate openings. “We are here to mourn,” and “he will be missed,” and all that. No one is scheduled to speak.

“Lord our God, you are the source of life,” the priest is saying, when a loud guffaw is heard somewhere in the second row of people on the right. Not a snort, not a choked-off chortle, or squeezed-down giggles. Full-on laughter, that trails off in a satisfied sort of way, not hint of remorse at all.

A short man standing beside the laughing offender elbows him, hard.

“That’s not funny,” the scruffy assailant mumbles. “It’s my death.”

“Oh, no, no,” the taller bespectacled Dane. “I wasn’t laughing at your little theater piece here. I remembered this cat I saw on Facebook. One of my papers is going digital, you know, and they have a page. We have very high engagement, the advertisers love it. Do you know how many likes the story of your death got? Oh, none. Because the story was about the other one’s death. Anyway, my assistant showed me this yesterday…”

He tries to pull out his phone to show his companion, who grabs it and shoves it into his own pocket.

“Hey.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“I thought it was.”

“That’s from like five years ago. You have horrible taste.”

“I have you, don’t I?”

“Your rights to me are revoked.”

“Hm.”

He hangs his head, mock existential crisis over the cat evident on his face.

“You are so old. I can’t believe I’m sleeping with you.”

“That’s because you have daddy issues.”

The priest glances over, and the two lower their voices yet another level.

“Why are you even here?”

“Story of the century, didn’t you hear? Wanted to see the ending for myself.”

“You and your fairy tales.”

“You love fairy tales.”

“Ugh. _I_  have horrible taste.”

“You do.”

“Just  _kidding_ , I don’t.”

People are walking up to the plot to toss some dirt in, and the rude man reaches into his scruffy companion’s pocket. Instead of retrieving his phone, he pulls out a handkerchief, blows his nose to it, and then drops it in with the coffin.

“You’re disgusting. I hate you,” the shorter man says.

“Yes, yes. Hurry up would you? I have a car coming and lunch reservations at that place that serves the disgusting fish you like.”

“It’s not the fish I like, it’s the chef. We’ve fucked.”

“And you say I’m the disgusting one? I should have him fired.”

“I’d like to see you try.”


End file.
